


The New Kid

by SomedayonBroadway



Series: The New Kid [1]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 11:22:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16809643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomedayonBroadway/pseuds/SomedayonBroadway
Summary: Jack Kelly had it all. He was the best newsie in a Manhattan. He had a best friend who would always be there for him. He had brothers he was in line to lead. He had everything he could've ever wanted. And then the new kid showed up.





	The New Kid

**Author's Note:**

> So this is one of my earlier one-shots that I love very much. People are still asking me for more and I have posted more of it. Let me know if y’all would like to see it!

Jack Kelly had it all. Well, all that he'd ever known he could want. At fifteen, he was one of the best newsies in New York. Sold a hundred papers almost everyday. He was the best newsie in Manhattan and he was next in line to be named leader of the newsboys lodging house in his borough. Link was teaching him how to be at the top. How to take care of his brothers and get them out of tough situations. He had a best friend who was always there for him, no matter the insecurities or disabilities they had. Everything was looking up for Jack. That is, until the new kid showed up.

The boy was a year younger than him. He was cocky and arrogant and sarcastic. Jack rolled his eyes every time he smelled that damn cigar the boy took with him everywhere. The boy was tall, blond and very thin. He almost always had a pack of cards in his pocket and the boy was a hell of a gambler. He would take Albert and Elmer for all they had and then he'd give them half of what they'd made that day back, his way of pitying them. The boys would let him. They'd tell him they'd beat him tomorrow and he'd just smirk and say, "Sure".

Link's second in command, Scraps, had found the boy over by the racetracks. The kid was from Brooklyn. Scraps had practically carried the kid inside, setting him on Jack's bed, the first one he'd seen open that night. Said he'd gotten into a bet with a greedy man that hadn't found it at all amusing when he'd lost to a fourteen year old. The boy had been bruised up and bloodied, but Scraps had stopped the fight before it got too bad. The next morning, the boy woke up, confused and scared. And he had a hell of a way of showing it. He lashed out at people who tried to tell him he was ok and he tried to get up and run away. Link had to sit him down with force and tell him he wasn't in the Refuge. Something about the kid was so familiar to Jack, and the fifteen year old's suspicion took him over. The boy looked like someone Jack had known, or seen somewhere. In a photo, maybe.

When Link introduced the boy to Jack, Jack had smiled at him and offered him some words of encouragement. But when they'd turned their backs, Jack scowled at the kid that was wedging his way into their lives. Within only a few days of knowing him, Scraps was telling Jack that he had potential to be his second. His second in command. Jack had laughed before he realized that the older boy was serious. Within a few days, boys were going to the new kid for advice on how to charm customers. They were going to the new kid to play cards. They were going to the new kid for a good laugh. Even Link and Scraps were constantly around him, laughing at his sarcastic comments. It was driving Jack insane.

Crutchie told him to give the new boy a chance. He said he'd sat down with him and the sarcastic boy had actually made him laugh. He was a smart ass but he liked to make people smile. But Jack had shook his head. "I don't trust him," he'd responded and his brother had just rolled his eyes.

After the boy was there for about a week, Link told Jack he'd be taking out the new kid to sell for the first time. Jack saw that boy was nervous and uncomfortable around him, and he was perfectly okay with that. Jack had shaken his head every time the boy did something wrong, he lashed out whenever he'd said anything about their brothers. Jack's brothers, he continued to remind himself. Not this boy's brothers. They were his. And this boy was not going to steal them from him. And he'd smack the kid upside the head every time he make a snippy, sarcastic comment about anything. And he ignored the way the kid reacted to every one of those things. Flinching, letting out a terrified gasp or wincing.

When that day came to an end, Jack and the new kid had walked home. The boy didn't say a word the whole time. Every time Jack looked back at him, he ran up next to him, silently, not wanting to be yelled at again. Link and Scraps had been waiting for them to make it back to the lodging house.

"How was the first day sellin', buddy?" Scraps had asked, crouching down to the young boy just inside the door. The kid looked down at the ground, not even cracking a smile. He pulled away from Scraps when he tried to touch his arm and quietly answered him.

"It was fine." The kid glanced up at Jack, but when their eyes met, the scared fourteen year old's gaze dropped back down to the ground. "Thanks, Jack," he'd said, before quickly walking further into the wooden building, passing by everyone who saw him without a word.

Scraps sighed and walked after him and Link looked back at Jack skeptically. He crossed his arms at the boy and looked down on him, noticing the boy avoiding his gaze. "Somethin' happen, Jack?" he asked, shrugging his shoulders, as if he didn't know that something was wrong.

Jack stood in silence for a moment. He waited for Link to say something else, to give up, but the eighteen year old had just given him a stern look and crouched down in front of his little apprentice. "Jack?" he asked again.

Jack sighed. "I tried ta teach him, Link," he stated. "But he just wasn't getting it!" He shouted, clearly annoyed. "He's not meant ta be a newsie!"

"Jack!" Link scolded after his friend's outburst. He placed his hands on the boy's shoulders and shook him in place until he looked up and their eyes met. "That kid had as much potential as you did when you were younger! Maybe more! He's not gonna understand how ta sell like you on the first day." Link explained. "That's why I asked you ta teach him, Jack. You're the best man for the job. You and him are more alike than you think."

"He's nothin' like me!" Jack argued. But before Link could respond, Scraps was running back down the stairs with Crutchie limping behind him, the twelve year old had a very concerned look on his face.

"The kid's gone," he said, gasping. He had been running all over the house until he came upon Crutchie.

"He ran out the window and down the fire escape," the young, blond boy said. "Said somethin' about not belongin'. And I couldn't stop him."

Jack looked around at the lodging house. All the boys had looked completely heart broken. They looked at Jack and the fifteen year old suddenly felt very guilty. Link grabbed his apprentice's face in his hands. "Hey!" he called, when Jack's eyes avoided him. "Look at me, Kelly. You listen and you listen good." He had ordered. "I don't know what's gotten into that head of yours, but every boy that comes in here is a brother of ours." Jack shook his head, but Link wasn't done. "I don't know what you did ta that boy, Jack, but you need ta go fix it."

That's how Jack ended up wondering the streets that night, looking for a boy he couldn't necessarily say he wanted to find. In Jack's mind, the kid ran away and that was his own choice. He didn't have to be a newsie if he didn't want to be one. But Jack would always remember the disappointment on Link's face and the hurt expression of the rest of his brothers. Even Crutchie's. So Jack walked until he passed by an alleyway and he heard some yelling.

Jack leaned up against the wall that lead into the opening between two buildings and simply listened. "Where is it ya little cheating bastard?!" a man screamed. Jack heard the clear sound of a body being slammed up against a wall, then flesh hitting flesh. Someone else, who he knew deep down was the kid he'd been sent out to find, had just been punched in the face.

The boy spit out some blood that had recently gathered in his mouth and glared up at the man, not even noticing that the fifteen year old was peaking around the corner, watching. "Lost it," he answered, simply, not even cracking a smile.

"You little bitch!" the man yelled. "You took it five minutes ago! I caught you cheating red handed. Now fork it over," he ordered, once again, slamming the small boy against the brick wall. Jack watched at the kid's head was smashed into it, wincing at the pain the boy must've been feeling.

The fourteen year old was silent as he glared at the man. Then something was said that would haunt Jack and the boy for years. "Well if you won't be a good little boy and hand it over, you'll be explainin' ta the man at the Refuge why you stole from me," the man threatened.

Jack saw the expression on the boy's face take a dramatic turn. His defiant, confident glare changed into one of absolute terror. He started struggling but the man was stronger than him and he grabbed a fist full of the boy's blond hair and his upper right arm and started dragging the struggling teen in the direction of the prison only a step short of hell. Jack heard the kid cry out. Suddenly it didn't matter weather or not Jack liked this boy. The Refuge was a cruel punishment to anyone. Good or bad. So Jack did all he could do. He walked out of his hiding place and put on a concerned face.

"Benny!" he cried, running up to the smaller boy, trying to embrace him, but the man pulled the kid out of reach. The little Italian looked about as light as a feather in the hands of the man.

"You know this boy?" The man asked, curiously. Jack furiously nodded his head.

"That's my kid brother! Our ma has been worried sick! She sent me out ta find him. Where the hell have you been, kid?" Jack asked, worriedly.

"Your mother, huh?" the man laughed. "Guess she'll be payin' me back for the money this kid stole from me." He smirked. This time, Jack did not miss the way the boy winced at talk like that. But for now, he ignored it.

"Benny, what have you been doin'?" Jack asked, like a concerned older brother would. Like Jack would do for Crutchie.

The little boy rolled his eyes and struggled in the man's hold, praying he'd just be able to break free and run. But the man just tightened his fist in the kid's hair, earning a cry from him. "This little bastard snuck into a poker game. Caught him cheatin', red handed." He scolded.

Jack scowled at the kid. "Benny!" He yelled, again, now fully aware of the flinch the boy gave him. "What did I say about gamblin'?"

The man shook his head. "Sorry, kid." He chuckled. "But if I bring this little guy ta Snyder, I get some of the cash that goes with him." He explained, smirking as the boy squirmed again. "It's alright though. You'll see him in a month."

Jack didn't hesitate before running up to the man and clocking him square in the face. Right when the man's hold on the boy loosened, Jack ripped him from the evil grip and dragged him through the alleys of Manhattan. He knew the streets like the back of his hand. A few ducks into a few different alleys and they were back on a street, unknown to the Brooklyn boy.

Jack let go of the kid's arm, turning around to see him looking around, trying to figure out where they were. He was a Brooklyn kid. Manhattan was still a mystery to him. So Jack scoffed and chuckled when the kid actually looked very lost. The older of the two sat down on the edge of the walkway, taking in the stars and the moon, letting the kid be scared for a moment.

The blue eyed boy looked at the newsie, anger sparking in his eyes. "What the hell is so funny, Jack?" He asked, stomping up to the older boy, straightening himself up, looking ready for a fight.

Jack shook his head. "You don't wanna fight me, kid." He smirked, looking up into those furious blue eyes. The boy shook his head too, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You think I can't fight?" He asked, his anger burning hot as Jack just shrugged at him. "You don't know a damned thing about me, Kelly!" He shouted. "Why the hell did you do that?" He yelled, pointing back in the direction he thought they'd come from. Jack just stood and adjusted the younger boy's arm, pointing it to the alley they'd actually run out of.

Jack scoffed. "Ya know, when someone bails ya outta goin' ta the Refuge, normally you'd say something along the lines of 'Thank you'." He scolded, ignoring the flinch that he earned. "I coulda just let him take ya, ya know?" He added, cruelly.

"Yeah well why didn't ya?!" The Italian shot at him. "Then you'd go back ta your perfect life, Golden Boy." He spat. He sighed and looked around once more. The fear in his eyes at being lost was still evident in his eyes. "Where the hell are we?" He finally asked.

Jack just rolled his eyes and sat back down. "Wouldn't you like ta know?" He scoffed, resting his elbows on his knees, facing away from the other boy.

"What is your problem, Jack? Did I do somethin' ta deserve this?" The Italian asked, a slight tremble in his voice. He hoped Jack didn't notice.

The older boy shook his head and gave a bitter laugh. "Ya know, 'fore you showed up, I wasn't invisible. I was the guy everyone would come to for... everything." He smiled as he remembered every moment that his brothers would ask him for help or advice. Then his smile fell. "When Scraps brought you home, it's like I didn't even exist anymore." He explained, sadly.

The Italian scoffed and leaned up against the building behind Jack, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're kiddin', right?" When Jack didn't respond and looked down at his hands in shame, the gambler continued. "You know all the boys talk about you all the time. Like you're some kinda god or somethin'. Crutchie told me that no one was as good as sellin' as you. Called you his best friend."

Jack felt guilty when the kid told him these things. His boys were bragging? About him? "Tell Link ya couldn't find me." The Italian finally said, pushing up off the wall and walking away. And they both knew that boy had no idea where he was going. Jack had a sinking feeling in his chest when the boy was almost out of view and he found himself chasing after the kid.

"Wait!" He called, stopping the boy in his tracks. The blond boy turned to him with an annoyed look on his face. He shoved a cigar from his pocket in his mouth, lighting it with a match before taking a puff and blowing it out past the other boy.

"Whaddya want now?" He growled, trying his best to swallow the sobs that wanted to escape from him. "Ya wanna tell me how bad I am at sellin'? How I'm nothin' but a no good, dirty, lyin', cheater?" He asked, his sorrow masked by anger. "Go ahead! Try ya beat it outta me! I've tried for years to get away from it but I can't change who I am! And damn it, I'm a Higgins!"

Jack stepped back at the boy's outburst. Higgins. That name sounded so familiar. "Higgins?" Jack repeated, curiously. The boy just nodded, his eyes becoming teary at the sound of his own name. "Anthony Higgins?" Jack asked, louder, the realization suddenly dawning on him.

"Don't call me that." The boy, Anthony, begged, realizing his mistake. But when he got angry, he couldn't stop his mouth. "Please, don't call me that." His voice shook when he asked Jack to just not call him that.

"Why not?" Jack asked, stepping up close to the boy so their faces were only inches apart. "That's your name, ain't it? Anthony Higgins Junior. Your that psychopath murderer's son?!" Anthony flinched and took a step backwards. He didn't speak for a long time. So Jack just continued. "I knew there was somethin' off about you from the second Scraps brought ya home! So help me God, if you hurt one of my boys, I'll-"

"Stop it!" The kid cried, dropping to his knees, letting his head fall into his hands as he sobbed. "Stop it! Just... stop. Please... I-I wouldn't..." He tried. "That's not my name... it's... it's _his_ name." He sobbed. "And I ain't him... or Vinnie... I just wanted ta get away from it..." He whispered. "I ain't no killer." He choked out.

Jack didn't know what to do. The boy was now sobbing on the ground. He was trembling at the name Anthony Higgins. His own name. And it made Jack's heart clench. He never thought he'd actually feel sorry for the kid. "Hey." He tried, quietly. "Hey, kid." He couched down in front of him. "Hey I'm sorry-" But when Jack touched the boy's arm, Anthony gasp and pulled away from his touch. "I'm sorry." Jack apologized, pointedly. Anthony wouldn't look at him as he hyperventilated, thinking about his father. The murderer.

"Look, kid." Jack started again, trying to get the boy to calm down. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean ta yell at ya." He promised. "I just didn't know what ta say. Anthony Higgins was a horror story that Link used ta tell us when we was stuck in the lodging house on a snowy day. I'm sorry."

"You think I don't know the things he did?" Anthony whispered, his voice shaking. "He used ta make me watch." He stated, slowly coming back to reality. "And Vinnie... Vinnie didn't used ta be like him. He use ta be my brother." The boy sobbed. "Then... after we ran... he started drinkin'. Gamblin'. He became a hell of an actor." Anthony laughed, bitterly. "Told everyone he needed money so's I could eat. Trouble is... all that money ended up on the table in his next poker match."

Jack didn't understand why he suddenly felt the urge to wrap the boy up in his arms and let him cry. "Kid..." He breathed.

"I just thought..." The Italian sighed as he was finally able to catch his breath. "I just thought I could start over when Scraps found me. I'd never been anywhere but Brooklyn. But then I met the boys and I just felt like... like I could be normal."

"Hey, you can be." Jack promised. Anthony looked up at him like he was insane.

"Jack, they'll find out who I am. My picture was in the papers. Snyder's been looking for me for years." The boy explained. "And Vinnie... I barely escaped him. He's probably gonna be lookin' for me." The tears broke from the kid's bright blue eyes again and Jack found himself unable to stop himself from wrapping his arms around the fourteen year old's shaking form.

"Listen ta me, kid." He ordered, gently. "We'll give ya a newsie's name, I'll teach ya how ta sell and how ta charm your way outta any situation. You'll come back ta the lodging house and the boys'll take you in because any boy that goes in there is a brother to us." He felt the kid starting to calm down in his embrace. "Ya don't need Vinnie, kid. He doesn't know what he's missin'. So's I'll promise ya somethin'." He pulled away from the boy and held him by the shoulders forcing him to look up at him. "If you come back with me, I'll be your new big brother. I swear I will always look out for you and I'll teach ya how ta sell and how ta look out for the boys. But ya gotta come back."

"Ya really wanna be my brother?" Anthony asked in disbelief.

Jack smiled at him for the first time. "Sure, kid. You ain't no bad person." He said, wiping the tears from the kid's eyes. "You're a newsie. And I'm gonna make sure you're one of the best." He promised.

"What're they gonna call me?" Anthony asked, sniffling and wiping all the evidence of tears that had taken over his face.

Jack thought for a moment before smiling. "How 'bout Racetrack? That's where Scraps found ya. You seem ta like cheatin' folks outta their money." Jack ruffled the boy's hair. "We'll call ya Race for short."

For the first time that night, the boy actually cracked a smile. "Race." He repeated. "I like it."

"Let's get ya home, Race." Jack smiled and helped the boy up, letting the kid lean on him as they did, the beating he'd taken finally catching up with him.

Link and Scraps had waited up for the two boys. Link had engulfed Race in a hug when he saw him. "What the hell did ya think you were doin', kid? Ya can't just run off like that! We was worried sick about ya!" The eighteen year old said, checking over Race, finding every little scratch and bruise the boy had gotten that night.

"You was worried... about me?" Race asked in a small voice. Scraps kneeled down to the kid and took him into his arms.

"Of course, buddy." He smiled, running a hand through the fourteen year old's hair. "What did ya think you were doin'?" He asked, worried.

"He was out bein' and idiot." Jack smirked, lightly hitting the kid over the head, smiling when Race didn't flinch, or wince. "But Racer isn't goin' anywhere anymore. Cause he's our brother." He smiled. "And brothers don't leave each other."

Link gave Jack a curious look. "Racer?" He asked, looking back over at the smiling, blond Italian.

"That's his new name. Racetrack." Jack pat the boy on the back. "He's a newsie now. He needed a newsie name."

Scraps nodded in approval. "I like it." He stated. "Welcome home Racetrack."

And Race had never felt more at home. For the next two years Race became as close to the boys as Jack was. He took care of them like Jack had taken care of him. He loved them and made them feel safe and even brought some new kids home, giving them newsie names and teaching them everything Jack had taught him. When he was fifteen, Scraps and Link left, leaving the lodging house to Jack. Originally, Race had thought the older boy's closest friend, Crutchie, would be named second in command. But when Jack asked him, he was honored to take the job, recommended by the gimp boy and almost every other one of his brothers.

Two years later, when a little boy, not even ten years old, proudly shouted the words, "I'm new too!" Race smiled and stepped up to the boy.

"Don't worry kid!" He assured, turning to Jack, giving him a quick, light punch in the arm. "It rubs right off." And Jack smiled at him, playfully punching back at him. And the story of Anthony Higgins was forgotten to the boys of the lodging house. None of them ever found out Race's story. The only one who knew was Jack. And that was okay.

When the newsies of Manhattan were snowed in, Jack would sit them down and tell them a story. Race would settle next to Crutchie and he'd let Romeo sit down on his lap. He'd listen to Jack go on and on about the story of a boy who had gone to hell and back. A boy who had never belonged anywhere until he found home. Until he found his family. Race would throw in his snarky remarks and he'd make Jack roll his eyes, but Race loved watching the amazed faces of all the boys when Jack told the story of a boy who shouldn't have made it, but did.

He made it. He was home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Make sure to tell me what you liked, what you didn’t, what you’d change or what you’d improve by leaving me a review! Love ya fansies!


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